Thorne

I walk out of the building with my hands full, the cart rattling softly as I guide it down the short stone path toward the back. The smell of blood clings to the air—metallic and rich—and my Lycan stirs, pleased by the successful hunt. Still, there’s a prickle of self-reproach riding my shoulders.

I should have come back sooner. Should have checked in. Should have—

She looks up.

And everything in my head goes blank.

I’m glad that you’re here.

The words fall out of my mouth like a dropped blade—clumsy, unnecessary, painfully obvious.

Idiot, my Lycan mutters. That’s what you lead with?

I grimace inwardly. All the years...